


By Your Side

by Zorro_sci



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Established Relationship, First Person, Hulk Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Justin Hammer is EVIL, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Bruce Banner, POV Hulk, POV Tony Stark, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Hulk, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, warning for rape, warning for torture, warning for violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 15,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zorro_sci/pseuds/Zorro_sci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is captured and tortured.  The physical wounds heal much faster than the emotional ones, but Bruce is by his side every step of the way as he fights his way back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tony: Cold, Wet and Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kweandee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kweandee/gifts).



> **WARNING: torture**

_Where am I?_ I thought as I awoke. 

Darkness surrounded me and the pale light of the arc reactor did little to cut through the blackness. Wherever I was didn't have any windows. Which was just weird. Short of solitary confinement in prison, why would you have a room that didn't have even a tiny window? 

I tried to move, but my arms were secured behind my back, and my legs were bound together. Great. I'm stuck on a damp, cold floor in some sort of room built for sensory deprivation. 

_Who put me here? What do they want? How long have I been here?_

My mind filled with questions, but I didn't have any answers. All I knew was that the situation was bad, and since escape seemed out of the question at the time, it seemed like it was only going to get worse.

At a loss for anything else to do, I started trying to free myself of my restraints. I worked against whatever was binding my wrists together, but my efforts were futile. It wasn't loosening even in the slightest. The same was true of the rope? . . .zip ties? . . .whatever that was binding my legs.

I was well and truly stuck, and with that knowledge came panic. My heart pounded frantically against my rib cage, and I felt my chest start to tighten. 

_Can't breathe! Can't breathe!_

I was gasping for air, and I knew I needed to calm down. I tried to focus on my breathing. On taking slow, deep breaths like Bruce always told me to do any time I had a panic attack. I imagined he was next to me, urging me to breathe with him, but it wasn't working. My vision was starting to swim and I knew I was on the verge of passing out. 

"Having trouble breathing, Mr. Stark?" a voice sneered from behind me.

I gather the little strength I had to shift my position to find the voice. A figure was standing in front of an open door that was allowing light to tumble into what I could now see was an eight foot by eight foot room. There was only one door, no windows, and not a stick of furnishing.

I craned my neck to try to find any distinguishing features on the shadowy figure, suddenly finding myself breathing easier if only out of defiance to whoever it was. I didn't get much of a chance, because they crossed the concrete floor and grabbed the bindings at my wrist.

"Don't worry. There's much more of that to come. In fact, why don't we start now?"

He dealt me a quick kick to the gut that winded me, which wasn't hard since I had just gotten my breath back. Then while I struggled to even out my breathing again he undid the restraints around my legs.

The shadow-man hoisted me up by my bound wrists and frog-marched me out into a dimly lit hallway. I tried to turn my head as I was forced down the hall to see the face of my captor, but a hand reached out and forced it back into a forward position.

I was turned into another small room much like the one I had just left, only this one was lit by a single low wattage bulb that hung in the center of the room. Not far from the sole light was a large barrel filled with water.

I felt my heart started to hammer against my chest again. The sight was far too familiar, and the memories of a cave years ago threatened to overwhelm me. I wouldn't let them though. I would not panic and give the bastard behind me any more satisfaction.

I kept my breathing even and steeled my resolve as I was led to the barrel. Behind me I heard another set of footsteps. It seemed someone had come to help the other man in case I decided to fight back. 

In an effort to calm myself, I thought about Bruce. His half-smile, his messy curls, and the way he took off his glass when he was making a point. I closed my eyes and pictured him wearing his ridiculously sexy purple button-down shirt and hovering around one of the screens in the lab. I imagined his soft brown eyes darting across the screen as he got too absorbed in his work to notice anything else. He'd roll up his sleeves as he kept working, and . . . . 

_Can't breathe! I'm going to die! Lungs burn; but if I breathe I'll drown!_

My distraction didn't last long against the overwhelming feeling of drowning. My every thought was reduced to the pressing need for oxygen, and when my head was finally lifted from the water I gasped and drew as much air into my lungs as I could, because I knew it would be long until . . . .

_Shit! Shit! Can't breathe!!!_

I felt half-dead by the time they brought me back to my little prison. I slumped to the floor, and found myself oddly grateful for the dark room. At least it was dry, and I could breathe.


	2. Bruce: That sinking feeling

_Where am I?_

My muscles burned and bones ached, so I knew the Other Guy had been out. I scrunched my eyes tighter, both against the light and to try and recover any snippets of memory left from my time as Hulk. 

_**Run. Run. Must follow. Run faster. Not let get away. Must follow.** _

I had no idea what the Hulk felt he "must follow," but I could feel his desperation not to lose whatever it was. I was unsure whether or not he found what he was looking for, but no other memories were coming, so I opened my eyes.

To my surprise the first thing I saw was Captain America standing by my side holding a spare set of clothes. That was strange, but my mind was too hazy to work out why. Instead I gratefully accepted the clothes, and was half-dressed before I realized why this time felt so different from the others.

"Where's Tony?" I asked as neutrally as I could, but my nervousness shone through.

Tony was always there when I de-hulked. He had made it his mission to make sure I was protected and comfortable through all of the pain and confusion that followed a transformation. If he wasn't there it likely meant he _**couldn't**_ be there, and that thought filled me with dread. Was he injured? Or worse was he . . . . No! It couldn't be! But Steve was looking at me with clear pity in his eyes, which did nothing to calm my nerves. My heart started to pound, and if I hadn't just changed back I would have been worried about accidentally triggering the Hulk with my fear.

"We don't know," Steve said gently, clearly trying to soften the blow.

No! No! This could not be happening. 

"We're pretty sure he was captured. Hulk ran off in the middle of the fight, chasing a plane and screaming "Tin Man!" Then we found you all the way out here. Nearly a hundred miles from the battle sight," he explained.

I must have looked as stricken as I felt, because next thing I knew Steve was kneeling in front of me. He grabbed my shoulders tightly in an attempt to ground me, and forced me to meet his eye.

"We'll find him," he said firmly.

I nodded, but I felt numb. Nothing the other man did, despite his good intentions, did anything to comfort me. It just reminded me all the more that somewhere out there Tony was facing untold danger, and we didn't even know where to start in our rescue mission.


	3. Tony: Justin Hammer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: rape**

I awoke to the sound of feet scuffing the concrete floor followed by a familiar and unwelcome voice.

"What do you think of your accommodations?" he asked. "It's not too dissimilar from the room you helped me into."

"Hammer, you helped yourself into that cell," I countered.

"You don't think you deserve this one? You made weapons for years. Just like me. And you were in it for the profit, just the same as me. Don't think that you're any better," Justin sneered.

"I may not have claim to any sort of moral high ground. I've done plenty of things I'm not proud of doing, but at least I don't hire thugs and supervillians to do my bidding," I spat back. 

Sure, it wasn't making my situation any better, but I couldn't help it. Hammer is slime, and it needed to be said.

"No, you have your little 'Avengers' instead. Thing is, it's not about moral rightness. It's about power. It's about who has the ability to overpower whom. Your pathetic superheroes are no different. 

Face it, it's all about who has the biggest dick. That's what it boils down to."

He walked over and kicked me in the stomach. I slumped to the floor and let out an involuntary grunt.

The kick combined with the earlier torture left me weak. He took full advantage of this and pinned me to the floor. Then, to my horror, he removed my pants.

"And by the looks of things, that's not you right now," he taunted.

I struggled against my restraints, but I was bound tight. There was no way I could loosen them. 

Hammer shifted behind me, and tried to reposition me, but I fought back the only way I could. I snapped my head back sharply and head-butted him in the face. He cried out, and pulled back, but only for a moment. Then there were hands at my neck roughly pushing my head into the ground. 

He kept one hand there, holding my face against the floor, and he used the other arm to reposition my hips. He lifted them so my bare ass was exposed and vulnerable, and then I heard pants unzipping behind me. 

I knew what was coming next. I tried to mentally prepare myself, but nothing could prepare me for the feelings that followed as I was invaded. 

Pain filled me as he entered into me completely unlubricated. It burned, and as he started to thrust the ache became sharper and spread. Along with the physical pain came intense shame. A feeling of dirtiness that I was sure I could never wash away. It was just wrong. Wrong that Justin Hammer, of all people, should be inside me. Inside me in a way reserved for Bruce.

But he wasn't Bruce. He wasn't tender or gentle, and as his thrusts became more violent I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out in pain. I was not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream. Even as I tasted salt and iron on my tongue from biting down so hard.

I screwed my eyes shut and tried to tune out as much of it as I could, but I couldn't unhear his grunts. I couldn't ignore the feel of him smacking against my bare skin as he buried himself deeper and deeper within me; couldn't escape the growing pain as he grew rougher, and ground my face against the concrete, as he approached climax.

What seemed like a eternity later, he stilled as he filled me with the vile warmth of his cum. I felt it dripping out of me mixed with my blood, and my stomach turned. Never had I felt so filthy. 

He pulled out, and smacked my ass.

"Just don't forget, whatever happened before, now you're my bitch," he said before he left.

I tried to say something in reply. Something cutting. Something witty. Anything to prove he hadn't broken me. But I was unable to find my voice. Instead I waited until I was sure he was gone, and I cried in shame.


	4. Bruce: Flight Plan

I went over all the information I had about the situation for what had to be the thousandth time. I reviewed the snippets of memory from the Other Guy, I re-analyzed what the other Avengers had told me they saw or noticed, and I tried to put the pieces together. Still, I was no closer to finding Tony.

I had tried meditating to recover more memories from the Other Guy. I had hacked dozens of security cameras to try to find footage of what had happened. I had JARVIS try to track the Iron Man suit. All of it to no avail. The rest of Hulk's memories remained in a haze, none of the cameras caught anything relevant, and the tracking device on the suit appeared to have been destroyed when Tony was captured.

Twenty-four hours had passed and all that I knew was that Tony was likely captured in a plane, because the Other Guy had been chasing a plane according to Steve, and the plane likely left the city by heading Northwest, because the Hulk had made a beeline in that direction.

Wait . . . Plane . . . Path . . Could there be . . . But surely they wouldn't . . . .but maybe.

I don't know if the sleep deprivation was catching up after staying awake for a full day after a hulk-out, or if I just temporarily lost my mind, but I decided to look at flight logs from the day of the battle. It seemed unlikely that someone who intended to kidnap someone, especially someone as famous and powerful as Tony Stark, would log a flight plan, but I thought it was a possibility. That in and of itself is probably a testament to how tired/out-of-my-mind-with-worry I was.

Whatever my reasons, I was soon pouring over a list of flights that flew over the airspace near where Tony had disappeared. One stood out. A private jet belonging to Justin Hammer was scheduled to make its way over the city on a Northwesterly path at approximately the time of the battle. 

That immediately raised alarm bells. Tony had mentioned Justin Hammer, and the history between them. I knew the other man hated him. That one of his planes was anywhere near the battlefield, much less scheduled to head over the city on a route that mirrored the Hulk's path out of the city, seemed to leave only one option.

The main problem was that Hammer was supposed to be in jail, which would make it impossible for him to do any of this. Unless . . . I hacked into the prison records and found that prisoner #276398-13, aka Justin Hammer, had been unaccounted for for three days. 

Now no doubts remained, so I called the others.

"Justin Hammer took Tony," I informed them as soon as they had all made their way down to the workshop.

"Isn't he in prison?" Steve questioned.

"He was, but he went missing three days ago," I relayed. "Add in that one of his planes was flying over the city during the battle, and that he despises Tony, and there really is only one realistic solution left."

"Where did he take him?" Natasha asked.

"According to the flight plan, they were scheduled to land at a location 212 miles Northwest of New York City. . . JARVIS, can you input the coordinates into the Quinjet's navigation system?" I said in a rush. I was eager to get going.

"Right away, Dr. Banner," the AI intoned.

"Flight plan? What kind of moron logs a flight plan when they're planning to kidnap someone?" Clint scoffed.

"Hopefully the moron who took Tony," I answered softly as I made my way to the door.

"Bruce, wait! Shouldn't we create a plan before we rush into anything?" Steve called from behind me.

I spun on my heel and answered brusquely, "He's been gone twenty-four hours! Who knows what's happened to him in that time! The last thing we need to do is delay any longer. We know where he is, so we go there, we get him out, and we bring him home. That's the plan."

I knew that my tone was rude, but I didn't care. Tony needed me, and I was going to be there for him. 

Thankfully, I heard the others fall in behind me as I made my way to the hangar. As far as I was concerned, we couldn't get there fast enough.


	5. Tony: Fade to Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: torture**

Not long after he left, Hammer sent in a bunch of his goons. They surrounded me and kicked me until I could hardly move. My body was covered in bruises and my ribs screamed in pain. I couldn't help the gasps and grunts of protest that escaped me each time their feet made contact, or the yelp as I was hauled up to my feet and poked and prodded out of the cell and down the hallway.

Hammer's henchmen forced me through a doorway into a room with a lab table. Then they punched me a couple of times, apparently for good measure, stripped me of my shirts, and fastened me down onto the metal tabletop.

"So we meet again," Hammer said as he walked into the room.

He looked me over with an assessing glance and added, "I see my men had some fun getting you here. That's good. I told them to enjoy themselves. I mean, how often to they get to beat up an Avenger? They must have thought Christmas had come early."

He laughed his obnoxious, slightly unhinged chuckle, and I tried not to cringe.

"Sooooo . . . Now comes the best part," he said, moving to stand right above me.

"This," he tapped my arc reactor, "is an amazing piece of tech, but I've never been able to duplicate it on my own. Sooo . . . I figure if I have one that works to use as a reference, I could reverse engineer it. . . .and if you happen to be dead because I'm using the one from your chest as my model; well, then no one will be around to sue me for stealing their design."

I suppressed a shiver as he covered the reactor with his palm and continued his monologue, "I just can't wait to see what secrets this baby unlocks."

"Yeah, yeah . . . Blah, blah, blah . . . Evil plan . . . but you'll never get away with it," I piped up, trying to sound bored, and hoping to engage him in a conversation and stall him. 

"Save the act, Stark. You're forgetting, right now I can feel every beat of your oh-so-nervous heart. It's pumping double-time behind this little contraption of yours. Scared, are we? Bluster all you want, none of your bravado can cover it," he taunted.

"But you're not scared? Of the Avengers, I mean. Because I'm sure they're on their way, ( _I hope. Any time would be good guys._ )," I stated confidently as I mentally tried to convince myself I was as confident as I sounded.

"They're going to be too late," Hammer sneered.

"Doesn't matter. . . 'Avengers'? Remember? If I'm already dead, they'll still avenge me . . . and I would hate to face down the wrath of Hulk after he realizes that you killed me. I'm kinda his favorite," I babbled, hoping to stall.

"I think I'll take my chances," he responded.

He unscrewed the arc reactor and yanked it from my chest, holding it in front of my face. There were sharp pains in my chest, and I knew I was in trouble.

"So, this thing was holding shrapnel in place, right?" he asked mock-curiously. "Ouch! That can't feel good. So ballpark, about how much longer do you have? Two minutes? Five? I wouldn't assume much more than eight on the outside."

"Long enough to see you get smashed," I answered, but my breath was starting to come out in pants as the pain in my chest got worse.

"Oh, I don't think so," he said, shaking his head.

Suddenly, he snapped the arc reactor back into place. 

"Holding the power of life and death in your hand. It's so heady," he said. "All I have to do is pull this out," and he pulled it back out again. "And now each beat of your heart is one closer to it being ripped apart."

"But if I do this," he replaced the reactor again and tapped it heavily as he spoke. "Now this wonderful, little, self-sustaining energy source is keeping the shrapnel at bay again. I have to admit, you're very clever Tony. Very, very clever."

"But it won't save you," he purred as he pulled out the arc reactor one more time. 

This time he brought it to the other side of the room, and I knew it was over. He was done toying with me, and nothing was going to hold back the shrapnel.

Dying was always a chance that I took as Iron Man, but somehow this isn't how I saw it happening. But, no use mourning the inevitable. The only thing I regretted was not being able to say good-bye, especially to Bruce. This would probably hit him hard.

 _Bye Bruce. I love you. You made my life better when you were in it,_ I thought.

Almost as if in answer, I heard a distant roar. _I'll miss you too, Big Guy._

Then I heard the roar again, but closer this time. I hadn't imagined it. Hulk was here! But the pain was cresting, and blackness was fading in on the edge of my vision. I was going into shock . . .and . . . .


	6. Bruce/Hulk: Save Tin Man!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hulk POV _italics_ and Hulk's thoughts and spoken words _**bold italics**_.

I nervously paced on the Quinjet, wringing my hands, and trying to keep a lid on my emotions. I was not ready for Hulk, not yet. We needed to get closer. Needed to find the place they were keeping Tony first.

We had to be getting close. Given our speed and the distance, we couldn't be more than ten minutes out. Of course we would have to find a landing space once we got close, but still, we were almost there.

That's when I felt it. A sharp pain in my chest, and I _knew_. I _knew_ something was wrong. Tony was in grave danger, and I didn't have any time to waste.

With that in mind, I opened the side door, and jumped. I was vaguely aware of someone, Steve I think, calling after me, but I didn't give it much mind. Instead I gave myself over to the transformation.

 _Save Tony,_ I instructed as green took over my vision.

 ** _Tin Man!_** _Hulk see old building. Know Tin Man inside. Ran. Ran for Tin Man._

_Ran to building, but puny men outside. Puny men with guns. Shoot Hulk. But no hurt. Stupid puny people. Hulk throw them to side and open door._

_Inside Hulk look for Tin Man. Look behind doors into rooms. Find other puny men with guns, but no Tin Man._

_Puny men with guns try shoot Hulk again. Hulk swat like flies._

_Hulk look behind more doors. No Tin Man._

**_Where Tin Man?_ **

_Hulk frustrated. Roar in anger, but keep looking. Keep looking for Tin Man. Must find._

_Hulk open 'nother door. Tin Man!_

_Tin Man tied to table. Smell scared. Smell hurt._

_Hulk get closer. See hole in Tin Man chest. Shiny heart gone. Hulk know this bad. Tin Man too still. Tin Man dead? No, smell hurt, but not dead._

_Puny man stand between Hulk and Tin Man. Talk fast, but say nothing. Then say something about take shiny heart. Puny man hurt Tin Man!_

_Hulk growl._

_**"NO HURT TIN MAN!!!"** _ _Hulk roared._

_Hulk throw bad man against wall. Want to smash more. Hulk want to rip bad man to pieces, but remember Tin Man. Tin Man hurt. Tin Man need help. Help Hulk can't give. Help from puny Banner._

_Hulk close eyes and let out puny Banner. **Help Tin Man.**_

I stumbled slightly as I returned to myself. I knew I had just de-hulked, but I felt less exhausted than usual, and I felt an immediate urgency, even before I opened my eyes.

 _ **Help Tin Man,**_ echoed through my mind, and my eyes flew open in alarm.

In front of me was a sickening sight. Tony strapped down to a lab table, sweaty, pale, and with a gaping hole in his chest where the arc reactor should be.

For a horrible split second I though I was too late, and he was dead. Then I realized his chest was heaving with each hard-earned inhale, and heard his ragged, labored breathing. He was unconscious, but alive. Still there wasn't a lot of time. Without the arc reactor . . . 

I looked around the room and thankfully found it quickly. It was sitting on a tray on the opposite side of the room. Scrambling, I grabbed it off of the tray and rushed to Tony's side. 

Carefully I placed it back in its rightful spot. It clicked into place and glowed its normal reassuring blue.

I let out a relieved breath, only to start worrying again. Tony's breaths were still coming in short, shallow gasps, his skin was clammy, and his pulse was fast and thready under my fingers. In short, he was in hypovolemic shock.

It wasn't really surprising, but it was worrying none the less. I didn't know how long the reactor had been out, but if he lost consciousness, it had probably been at least a couple of minutes. In that amount of time the shrapnel had probably torn through significant amounts of tissue and caused massive internal bleeding. Bleeding that was causing Tony to go into shock.

I needed to get him out of there, and I needed to do it now. His condition was too unstable. Everything could go downhill rapidly if he didn't get proper treatment soon, and I didn't have even the most basic medical equipment with me.

There was clattering behind me as some of Hammer's henchmen approached. Knowing what I had to do, I reach for the Other Guy, hoping I would be able to transform again. I tapped into the anger, the fear, the desperation I was feeling . . . and slowly, my bones began to shift, my form began to grow, and I sent Hulk a message, _Get Tony out of here! Hurry!_ right before I faded into the recesses of my mind.

_**Hurt! Tin Man smell hurt!** _

_Hulk looked at Tin Man. Tin Man still too still, but shiny heart back. That good._

_Hulk remember puny Banner said get Tin Man out. Puny Banner said hurry. So Hulk pick up Tin Man and ran for the door. Hulk ran, and when puny men with guns tried to stop Hulk, Hulk pull Tin Man close to protect. Then Hulk smash puny men._

_Hulk ran more. Ran to jet. Ran to team. Ran until Shooty Bird took Tin Man from Hulk._

_Shooty Bird looked at Tin Man, and Hulk smelled fear. Fear for Tin Man. Shooty Bird fear made Hulk afraid._

_"We need to get out of here. Nat call Steve. Quickly," said Shooty Bird._

_Hulk followed Shooty Bird onto jet. Hulk looked at Tin Man and worried. Tin Man too, too still. And Hulk no like Tin Man smell. Tin Man smell hurt. Tin Man smell like dying._


	7. Bruce: Waiting

I awoke on the Helicarrier with Steve at my side. He didn't notice, but I saw the worry and pity in his eyes before he realized I was awake and carefully schooled his face. Great, Captain America pitied me. That couldn't mean anything good.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice harsh and abused. "Tony? They took out the reactor. There was internal bleeding. Is he okay?"

"He's still in surgery. It's taking longer than they thought," Steve whispered gently.

"How long has it been?" 

"Almost six hours."

I blew out a breath. If things were taking longer than they thought, the damage must be a lot more extensive than they originally realized. That, or they had run into unexpected complications. The thought made me nervous, but I reminded myself that if Tony was still in surgery, it meant he was still alive.

"We were worried about you, too," Steve said softly. "You just collapsed on the Quinjet and have hardly moved until now."

"I . . . " I started, but what should I say?

"Transformed a day and a half ago, didn't sleep or eat for more than twenty-four hours post-Hulk, and then transformed again?" Steve supplied with a raised eyebrow.

I nodded sheepishly. That pretty much summed it up.

"I thought so. This time, you're taking care of yourself. You need food and sleep after a transformation. Your body took care of the sleep part for you. Now you need to eat. Let's head down to the cafeteria," he instructed.

"But what if . . ." I started to protest.

"If there's any news Natasha or Clint will find us in the cafeteria. I know you're worried about Tony, but that's no excuse to neglect yourself," he countered.

I wanted to argue. To tell him that I wasn't hungry and I wasn't even sure I could eat if I tried, but I knew it would be no use. Steve was a stubborn man, and if I didn't at least try to get my strength back up a little I knew I would be useless to Tony if . . . _when_ he got out of surgery.

The cafeteria food was awful, fully living up to the stereotype of military chow, but I ate it anyway. I had transformed three times in the last three days, and not eaten anything else. However bad it tasted, it would at least help restock my depleted reserves.

I'd just finished my second helping of whatever they were calling their awful casserole when Clint walked into the cafeteria.

"He's out of surgery," he said. 

I rose from the table and ran back to the medical bay.

They seemed to be expecting me, (maybe Clint had told them I would be right up), because a doctor quickly made his way over and informed me of Tony's condition. They had stopped the bleeding, but he had lost a lot of blood, and they were still worried there could be serious complications.

Then they lead me to a small, military-style room that was too clinical, and would have threatened to trigger thoughts of lab tables and sadistic experiments if it weren't for the fact the only thing I could see was Tony. He lay still in the small bed, but his arc reactor shone reassuringly under the thin hospital gown and he was breathing steadily.

I sunk into a hard plastic chair next to the bed, eyes never leaving Tony's face. It was bruised, and there was a wide scrape on his right cheek. My eyes trailed down the rest of his form and found more bruises marking the rest of the skin not covered by the gown. He had obviously been beaten badly, and I couldn't help but wonder what else had happened to him. 

I tried not to think about it, nothing good could come from letting myself dwell on it. Still, it was hard not to think back on Tony's lifeless body strapped down to a lab table, or to imagine Justin Hammer and his men gleefully surrounding Tony to lay into him with their fists and feet. I clenched my fists, feeling my anger and guilt building. Knowing I needed to regain control, I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing to calm myself.

This had to stop. I needed to stay calm. Tony would need me, and I could not fall apart.

I opened my eyes and turned them to the monitor beside the bed. It beeped rhythmically as data scrolled across the screen, reporting every breath and heartbeat. Each blip was empirical evidence that whatever had happened, Tony was still alive. That was the most important thing.

I swallowed a lump in my throat as I remembered that wasn't a given. Knowing Tony was alive filled me with relief, but it was bittersweet. Mixed with anger that any of this had happened in the first place. 

Once again, I felt like my emotions were threatening to overwhelm me, but this time I couldn't keep them at bay. Tears fell down my cheeks as I mourned and rejoiced all at once, finally allowing myself a release. I could be strong in a minute. That would be soon enough.


	8. Tony: Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning:remembrances of torture**

_Hands were all over me. Holding me down. Keeping me still as bursts of pain shot through my ribs._

_Then the hands were forcing me to my feet and pulling me somewhere against my will. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I was afraid. I fought against the hands, but they were too strong. They held me in place, and continued to drag me to their intended destination._

_They strapped me to a cold, metal table, and for a moment they left me alone._

_Then a new hand appeared and covered the arc reactor, blocking out its light._

_"Scared, Stark?" Justin Hammer's voice taunted. "Your heart's racing."_

_I was going to answer when the breath was stolen from my chest by the arc reactor being ripped out. Then the same hands that had removed it waved it in front of my face._

_Pain ripped through my chest, and I could almost feel the shrapnel advancing. My breath came in increasingly labored pants. There would be no stopping it. No one to save me . . . ._

I awoke with a start, and slowly began to realize it was just a dream. The reactor was emitting it's reassuring, blue glow from my chest, and I could breathe. 

Still . . .there was a hand wrapped around my wrist. I felt my gut tighten in dread as I tried to figure out who the hand belonged to. 

My panic only grew as the hand was removed, and then placed something on my chest near the arc reactor. I struggled to get away, feeling a pinch in my side and my heart rate skyrocketing as I shifted away from the hands.

"Get away from me!" I yelled, hoping against hope that they would listen to me.

Then another pair of hands were on me, but this pair were gentle and familiar. I didn't feel the urge to fight them. They were softly, but firmly gripping my shoulders as a familiar face appeared in front of me.

"Tony! You need to calm down. You're safe," Bruce said.

I felt my body start to relax. Bruce was there, and he wouldn't lie. If he said I was safe, then I was.

"Deep breaths," he urged, modeling his request.

I did as I was told, and slowly I began to see my surrounding for what it was. I was in the SHIELD medical bay, and a flustered doctor was standing behind Bruce. The other pair of hands must have belonged to him.

"Dr. Lawrence was trying to take your vitals," he explained. "Do you think you could let him do that?"

I looked at the doctor, he looked unassuming enough, but my skin crawled at the thought of his hands on me. Honestly, the thought of anybody touching me was a bit overwhelming. Well, maybe not Bruce. He still had his hands on my shoulders, and that seemed to be fine.

I turned back to Bruce and shook my head.

"Can't you do it? I don't want him to touch me," I said. 

"Tony . . ." he started gently.

"I'm serious, Bruce. I don't think I could take it. But you're a doctor. You could do it. Please," I pleaded.

"I'll be right back, Tony," he said, and then urged Dr. Lawrence to follow him into the hallway.


	9. Bruce: Arguments and Egos

As I pulled Dr. Lawrence into the hallway my mind was racing. Tony had almost had a full-blown panic attack. Just being touched on the wrist seemed to trigger him, and when Dr. Lawrence had tried to auscultate his heart and lungs, he had nearly ripped out his chest tubes trying to get away. 

On a certain level it made sense. Someone had just ripped the arc reactor out of his chest. Touching him anywhere near it was bound to be triggering. Still, he just had surgey. They needed to keep a close eye on him. 

But if he was going to react that violently every time they tried to get a set of vitals, he was going to put unnecessary strain on his already weakened body. That wouldn't work. Then again, he didn't seem to have that violent of a reaction when I touched him. Maybe I _should_ be the one monitoring him.

"We'll have to give him a sedative. Does he have any medication allergies?" Dr. Lawrence asked in the hallway.

"What?!? No! That's contraindicated with his weakened cardiovascular system," I countered in shock.

What was he trying to do? Tony was already on narcotics. Why was he trying to push more strong drugs?

"Well, it would be better for him than that panic episode he just had. It doesn't appear that he can be touched without severe anxiety, and we can't just not monitor his vitals," he argued.

"He didn't appear to react with anxiety when I touched him," I commented.

"Are you seriously thinking of indulging his request? Shouldn't you leave the medicine to the _real_ doctors?" he scoffed.

"Let's just see if he reacts as strongly if I take his vitals. We can decide how to respond from there," I said levelly, biting back my anger at the man's snarkiness.

"Okay, but you're going to see reason after this," he said, handing me his stethoscope.

I took it and walked back into the room.

"Tony, I'm going to check your pulse," I informed as I gently took his wrist. 

He didn't seem to react even slightly fearfully as I touched him, he just looked on with trusting eyes as I counted the beats, (and then counted his respiration rate).

I grabbed the sphygmomanometer from behind the bed, and informed Tony of what I was doing next as I attached it to his arm. Then I slipped the head of the stethoscope under the cuff and measured his blood pressure.

Then came the moment of truth. If anything was going to set him off, it was going to be this next part.

"I need to listen to your heart and lungs," I said neutrally, but underneath I was nervous and anxiously searching his face for any signs that he was going panic.

He nodded stoicly, and made no attempt to move away or stop me, so I placed the diaphragm of the stethoscope against his chest. This didn't seem to bother him at all, and I finished gathering the necessary information without incident.

"I want to go home," Tony said as I removed the earpieces.

"Tony, you just had major surgery," I said gently. 

"And the Tower has a fully stocked medical wing," he countered. 

"But Tony, if something goes wrong . . ." I started.

"You can handle it. I have every confidence in your abilities," he interrupted. "But if I stay here, the creepy SHIELD docs are going to try to poke and prod me, and I just can't take that right now. I've had enough of strangers poking and prodding me."

His eyes begged me to understand, and I did. I knew what it was like to have people treat you like an experiment, to poke you and prod you against your will, and I knew the distrust that came with it. That didn't mean I was comfortable caring for Tony alone back in the Tower.

"Besides, now that I'm awake I'll just refuse to consent. They'll have no choice but to release me. I _can't_ stay here Bruce," he said firmly.

"Let me talk to Dr. Lawrence first," I stalled.

I walked back into the hallway, and met the doctor's eye. I passed back his stethoscope and reported my findings. 

"So you managed to get one set of vitals. That doesn't make you a qualified doctor. Do you really expect trained professionals to defer to you just because know a little after playing doctor to the masses in third world countries?" he said defensively.

"Enough! This isn't about ego. This is about Tony. If the only way we can monitor him without sedating him or triggering a panic attack is for me to do it, then we should strongly consider that option," I countered. "It has nothing to do with anyone deferring to anybody."

"Really? Because you've seemed more than comfortable telling me what to do so far. Maybe you're just used to people being afraid of you, but I'm not. And I'm not going to leave my patient in the hands of an amateur just because that amateur happens to be the Hulk," he shot back.

I clenched my fists at my side and took a deep breath before I responded, "Considering your first course of action was to sedate a patient who's already receiving the maximum dosage of pain medication, even though the interaction of the drugs would likely put a strain on his already compromised cardiovascular system, I think I was justified in my objection.

Not to mention repeatedly doping him up will make it harder of him to sit up or breath deeply, which increases his chance of getting pneumonia, and if he's too drugged to be able to move, it also increases his chance of developing blood clots. 

Then again, what do I know? I only graduated from medical school at the top of my class, and then "played doctor" for years."

"Well then, by all means 'doctor', why don't you just transfer him back to Stark Tower? I hear they have a medical floor. Then you won't have to deal with the incompetence of me or my actually licensed peers," Dr. Lawrence bit out sarcastically. 

I knew in that moment that Tony was right; there was no way Dr. Lawrence was going to keep his hands off of him. This was all about ego for him, and his desire to show me up was bound to outweigh his concern for Tony or his well-being. That was a dangerous situation, and one I was unwilling to leave Tony in the middle of.

"I think I will," I answered, trying to assure myself that I was making the right decision.

"Now who's letting their ego cloud their judgment?!? In case you've forgotten, the potential complications after a thoracotomy are. . . " he started.

"Pneumothorax, air leak, infection, bleeding, and in some cases, respiratory failure," I cut him off, silently praying that none of these would happen. 

I knew the risks, but right now the greater risk seemed to be Tony worrying himself in a panic attack, or this moron of a doctor making medically unsound decisions out of pride. 

I told myself again I was making the right decision. Tony wouldn't relax until we were home, and the stress he was putting on his body in the meanwhile could be fatal if it continued too long. Plus, I was capable of caring for him. I might be a little close to the situation to be ideal, but I was better than the alternative. Besides, Tony would have taken the decision out of my hands anyway by refusing care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head cannon Bruce was a fully qualified medical doctor, (as well as nuclear physicist), but he lost his license to practice medicine after the Hulk. This chapter and all the others are written with this in mind.


	10. Tony: Someone to Fuss Over Me

_I couldn't breathe, and my heart was beating itself to death in my chest. There was pain, so much pain radiating through my chest._

_I looked down, and there was a gaping hole where the arc reactor should have been. Panic tore through me as another wave of agony ripped through my chest. The reactor was gone, and I was going to die._

_"Tony!" A voice called from beside me._

_The voice sounded stricken, and I turned my head toward the sound with effort. There, standing a few pace away, was Bruce, his eyes filled with sorrow. I tried to call out to him, but I couldn't draw enough air into my burning lungs to speak._

_He tried to close the distance between us, but he seemed to run into an invisible wall. He stepped back in surprise, and then tried again, but once again he was stopped. He seemed frantic as he repeatedly tried to breach the barrier between us, and I realized that it was no use. There was no way he could reach me._

_With a sinking feeling in my gut, and a sharp, cresting pain in my chest, I realized that Bruce was going to watch me die. He was powerless to stop this, so he would just have to stare helplessly as the shrapnel finished me off. That knowledge hurt almost as much as the acute ache that threatened to overwhelm me._

_I met his soft, heartbroken, brown eyes and mouthed, "I'm sorry . . . . "_

My eyes flew open, and searched my surrounding. I let out a relieved sigh as I realized I was in the Tower. I was home, and no one was trying to hurt me.

Or were they? A pair of hands were grabbing my shoulders, and even though they held gently, they felt foreign and unwelcome. I struggled against them as my heart picked up its pace once more.

I was vaguely aware of Steve's voice and presence by my side. He was saying something. Something to try to calm me, but his words were lost in my panic to escape the unwanted touch.

I fought harder, closing my eyes against the near-burning sensation the unwanted hands caused against my skin. Suddenly, the grip loosened, and I was free once again.

"You're safe, Tony. Calm down," a warm, concerned voice broke through.

Bruce. I breathed in relief, even as a new hand found its way to my forehead and gently stroked through my hair. This touch was different. It was soothing, gentle, and so recognizably Bruce that I sunk into it, letting my anxiety ebb away.

"He woke up frightened. I was only trying to help. I only touched his shoulders. I didn't mean to . . ." Steve's voice sounded small, scared and far away as he spoke.

"It's not your fault," Bruce reassured, his voice sounding like he was facing the other way, as he continued to gently stroke my head. "You didn't know. I didn't either. It's worse than I thought. So far he's only let me touch him. I thought maybe the team would be different . . .but I guess not. . . Hey, Steve, it's not your fault."

"What did they do to him?" Steve muttered under his breath.

"I don't know," Bruce whispered back sadly.

Part of me took offense at them talking about me in front of me. . .because hello! I was right there. Still, even through I still hadn't opened my eyes, I knew Steve was looking guilty. He probably had on his huge, Captain America, kicked puppy dog eyes, and I couldn't blame Bruce for trying to comfort him.

"I'll go . . ." Steve said, and I heard the door shut as he left.

Finally feeling calmer, I opened my eyes. Bruce was looking at the monitors, and for a moment his face was unguarded. He looked exhausted, worried, and sad, and I felt a stab of guilt for being the one to put that look on his face. Then he turned back and carefully schooled his features.

"Hey," he said softly as he realized I was looking at him. "So . . .since you're awake now would be a good time for your breathing exercises."

I groaned as he grabbed the incentive spirometer off of the small table next to the bed. Not again. Bruce had made me do this at least a dozen times so far, and it hurt, but I complied. He had gone to great lengths to explain why deep breathing, (even if it did make my lungs bump into the reactor casing), was important, and the last thing I wanted to do was worry him more.

"Good," he approved as I finished. "Now, do you think you're up for a little walk? You made it three times around the bed last time. We could go for four."

I nodded, feeling a bit like a child. I really hated being so dependent on him. Hell, I couldn't even go to the bathroom without him helping me there and back, (though thankfully he waited outside once he got me there). It was humiliating, but when I saw the tenderness on his face as he helped me out of bed, I couldn't help but be intensely grateful. My embarrassment seemed minor in comparison to my luck at having someone who cared enough to fuss over me the way Bruce did.


	11. Bruce: Horrible Truth

The two days Tony had been at the Tower had been filled with ups and downs. 

On the upside, Tony had been able to get out of bed and take short walks fairly quickly. He was eating, and sitting up to do his breathing exercises with minimal complaining. He also seemed to be able to use the bathroom on his own, which was quite frankly a relief. Tony was a very proud man, and I would hate to imagine what it would have done to him had I needed to help him with more than getting to the toilet.

On the downside, Tony seemed to be having nightmares nearly every time he slept. After only two days, he had awoken startled and panting a half dozen times. Furthermore, he wouldn't let anyone, expect me, touch him.

The others had taken turns at his bedside, making sure there was always someone nearby. They wanted to help, and they did what they could, but Tony still seemed distrustful. It all made me wonder just how bad whatever had happened was. I knew some of what had taken place, but I had a feeling there was a lot more, and Tony wasn't talking about it.

However bad I thought things were, I was still taken by surprise as a new bit of information fell into place. I suppose it shouldn't have been that surprising, and I maybe should have known, but it still knocked me off balance.

I was waiting outside of the bathroom. Tony had been taking a very long time, and I was starting to get worried.

"Tony? Are you alright?" I called as I knocked on the door.

I heard a quietly muttered exclamation of "shit!", which made my heart jump into my throat, before Tony replied in a measured voice, "I'm fine. Just give me a minute."

Then I heard another mumbled exclamation, and opened the door, unconvinced that everything was really okay.

I was unprepared for what I found on the other side. Tony, with blood smeared on one hand, was rushing around to stop the bleeding that was causing a thin trail of red to make its way down his leg.

"Oh, Tony," I heard myself say softly, as I put the pieces of the situation together.

"Don't," he said firmly. "Not the pity look."

"Just let me help," I said as I tried to school my face.

I'm not sure I was successful, but he followed me out of the room anyway, and over to one of the exam tables. Then he allowed me to position him so that I survey the damage, but I didn't miss the way he winced and stiffened as I helped settle him in the awkward pose.

Guilt filled me as I looked at the torn sutures that had been closing one of several tears around his anus. How had I not known about this? I was supposed to be in charge of Tony's care. (Then again, the doctors probably hadn't told me originally because legally I had no right to Tony's information, it was a courtesy that they had told me anything at all . . .or maybe they were just afraid of telling the Hulk that someone had raped his boyfriend. After that, Tony had probably had JARVIS delete that piece of information from his medical record as soon as possible, (probably while I was in the hallways with Dr. Lawrence), given that he seemed to be determined to hide it from me).

The guilt was followed by anger as I went to get a suture kit.

_I should have killed Justin Hammer while I had the chance. Prison is far too good for him._

I felt Tony tense as I began to re-close the wound. His body was tightly coiled, and his anxiety was evident in every line. I moved one hand to rest on small of his back for a minute while I murmured reassuringly. It seemed to help a little. Then I got back to work, quickly but carefully repairing the re-opened injury. 

When I helped Tony down, I noticed he was avoiding meeting my eyes. He looked so ashamed, and I thought for a second time that breathing was too good for Justin Hammer.

I wanted to say something. To reassure him that none of this was his fault, but he seemed to want to be left alone. So I helped him back to his bed, and then left as soon as Natasha reported for her shift.


	12. Tony: Trust and Mistrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning: rape**

_Justin Hammer was smiling at me smugly, his smile smarmy, and his eyes looking at me in a way that made my skin crawl._

_"You're my bitch."_

_The words echoed ominously._

_Suddenly I was naked and cold, and there he was again. He was spreading me opening, taking what wasn't his by force._

_"Stop!" I tried to yell, but my words came out barely a whisper, and he didn't seem to hear them anyway._

_Instead he penetrated me, making me cry out in pain. Then he started to move and thrust, increasing the pain and making my vision swim._

_He moved his face next to mine and whispered in my ear, "You're mine."_

_I shook my head violently. I wasn't, and I would never be his._

_As I shook my head I saw a figure standing nearby. I strained my neck to see who it was, and my heart stuttered in my chest._

_Bruce! Surely he would stop this._

_I was about to call for help when I saw his face. He was looking at me in complete disgust. His eyes were hard and cold, and the turn of his mouth expressed sheer revulsion at what he was seeing._

_"He doesn't want you," Hammer whispered poisonously in my ear. "How could he? Why would he want a little slut like you? He's done with you. And now you're mine."_

_Bruce turned away, and started to leave, but I couldn't say a word to stop him. I just stared after him while a heaviness filled my chest, crushing me, until I was sure I would die from the feeling . . ._

This time I awoke to the sound of Natasha asking JARVIS to get Bruce. She sat next to the bed, clearly keeping a close eye on me, but making no moves to touch me.

 _No, not Bruce! He hates me. I can't take seeing the disappointment in his eyes,_ I thought desperately, still under the influence of the nightmare.

My fear must have shown on my face, because hers softened in a way that it rarely did.

"You alright?" she asked when she felt my eyes on her.

"I will be," I said as steadily as I could, but my still slightly shaking breathing belied my words.

She looked me over and nodded, and I had the feeling she saw more in that glance than I would ever know. I looked back, wondering just how she managed to make you feel like she could see through to your soul with just a look.

The door flew open, and I turned to see Bruce burst in. I flinched at his sudden presence, fear spiking in me as I tried to steel myself against the cold, dismissal I knew was coming. But my fear quickly died when I saw his face. His eyes were concerned and soft, and he looked the complete opposite of the man who had rejected me in my dreams as he rushed to my side.

 _Of course he does,_ I chastised myself. _Bruce is a good man. And he loves me._

"Tony, are you okay?" Bruce asked, breaking into my thoughts with a heightened concern that made it clear he had probably asked a few times previously without receiving an answer.

"Yeah. Nightmare," I dismissed looking down at my hands.

He put a gentle hand on my cheek, and lifted my face so that I met his gentle, chocolate gaze.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly.

I considered. I knew he would listen, and that I could trust him. But I didn't want to speak my demons. It seemed like that would make them more real, so I shook my head.

He gentle stroked my cheek and nodded.

"If you ever change your mind . . ."

I nodded in return.

"You can go. I'll stay," Bruce said to Natasha.

"But, Bruce you . . ." She started, but Bruce turned to glare at her and she nodded and fell silent.

As she left I couldn't help but be impressed. Other than maybe Fury, Bruce was the only person I knew who could silence Black Widow with nothing more than a look. And his eyes hadn't even flashed green. 

He leaned over to kiss my forehead, and then sat in the chair Natasha had just vacated, taking my hand gently in his as he settled.

"You should try to get back to sleep," he said gently.

I nodded and closed my eyes, focusing on the comforting feel of Bruce's hand holding mine as I let myself drift.


	13. Bruce: Whispered Truths in the Dark

I sat next to Tony's bed and watched him sleep, clutching his hand in mine. His face looked calm and peaceful, and I hoped that meant he had finally escaped his nightmares. They had been all too frequent since his rescue, and it bothered me that he couldn't seem to relax even when he slept. Not to mention the look I had seen in his eyes when I entered the room. I wasn't sure what nightmares had been plaguing his sleep, but he seemed to be afraid, of me. The mistrust in his gaze was unmistakeable, and the thought made my heart ache.

My thoughts were interrupted by a figure appearing by my side.

"I've got this shift, Clint," I said.

Technically it was Natasha's turn to sit with Tony, but I had sent her away. She must have told the archer, and now he was here to try to urge me to take a break. Not that he would be successful. I fully intended to stay by Tony's side until he awoke. 

"I just came to keep you company, doc," he replied, pulling up a chair and sitting beside me.

"Riiight. That either means that Natasha told you to come take my place, and you're too afraid to leave because then she'll know you failed . . .or you guys have decided I need to be watched, and you're taking turns baby-sitting me because you think I'm obsessed and not taking care of myself," I commented.

"We just wanted you to know that we're here for you," Clint said.

"I know. You guys have been great. Making meals, taking turns sitting with Tony. I'm very grateful," I said. 

"Tony's family, and families look out for each other, but that's not what I meant," he responded. "You're family too, doc, and this can't be easy for you. If _you_ need anything. Even just to talk; we're here."

I considered his words, and then confessed, almost against my will, "I'm worried I won't be enough."

My statement hung in the air a moment, an almost tangible expression of the fear I had been trying to bury deep inside.

I looked down at where my hand was joined with Tony's and continued, "Anywhere else there would be an entire team of medical personnel, but here he just has me, and I'm not even licensed to practice medicine. What if something goes wrong? What if I make a mistake? There's no back-up."

 

"It's not your first time working without a net, doc. I tracked you for a while for SHIELD. You treated scores of people while you were on the run. And then the next closest help was hours away, not minutes," Clint commented.

"That was different. Like you said, those people were hours away from anyone else who could help them. They really didn't have any other good choices. . . Tony could get care almost anywhere on the planet he wanted, but instead he's here being treated by a single pseudo-physician who's far too close to the situation to keep emotions out of the decision-making process," I countered.

"Maybe that's what he needs," he said simply.

"What?" I asked, not sure if I grasped his meaning.

"Maybe he needs someone who won't be clinical. Someone who's emotionally invested in his recovery," he explained.

"It's dangerous. It means I'm less rational. More likely to make a mistake," I argued.

"That I don't buy for one minute, doc. Tell me you don't check and re-check every little thing you do. 

Nah, like I said, you're emotionally invested. You're going to do everything in your power to make sure Tony's safe," Clint said, dismissing my argument. 

"But, he's not just hurt physically," I added. "What they did to him . . . it did damage that's not just going to heal with the cuts and bruises. You should have seen his face when I walked in here. He looked like he was expecting me to hurt him. 

I'm not prepared to deal with that. I have absolutely no training to deal with psychological pain, but he won't trust any one else. . . I'm not even sure he trusts me. 

It's so painful to watch. Knowing he's suffering, and there's absolutely nothing I can do.

And when I think about why he's looking like that. What Hammer did. It makes me see green. If I can't control my anger . . . I'm just not sure I'm stable enough to be what he needs."

"Bruce, no one blames you for being angry with Hammer. Personally, I would have put an arrow through his eye socket, and he would have more than deserved it. But you'll be stable enough, because Tony needs you to be, and I know you won't let him down.

You're doing what you can do. You've been there for him. You've let him know that you care, and he's not alone. It may not feel like enough, but that's invaluable after what he's been through. . .I would know. . . and you should too. 

And don't be ridiculous, of course he trusts you. He actually lets you touch him after all of what's happened. That's an act of trust, if ever I saw one."

I stared at him, too overwhelmed by emotion to speak, so he continued.

"Face it, Banner, you're exactly what he needs. You know more about the arc reactor than anyone except Tony himself. You won't let anything get between Tony and the care he needs, not your own feelings, not the Hulk, not even his own stubbornness. You'll stay by his side almost constantly and mother hen him into doing what he needs to do to recover, and he'll put up with it and actually do it, because it's _you_ and he _trusts_ you."

"I hope you're right," I muttered, fervently hoping he was.


	14. Tony: What does the 'R' stand for?

"Good morning. How are you feeling?" Bruce asked gently, as I blinked the sleep from my eyes.

I took a quick inventory. My chest ached, but that had been pretty much constant since I woke up after surgery, and the pain was lessening with each passing day. Nothing else really hurt, and I hadn't startled awake like nearly every other time. All in all, not bad.

"Not too bad," I answered.

He nodded. Then he released my hand, (had he held it all night?), and stood to gather the blood pressure cuff, stethoscope and thermometer.

_Great. Vitals check. Again._

I sighed as Bruce told me to hold the thermometer under my tongue and reached out and gently held my wrist. All this fuss made me feel weak, but I didn't fight him. Deep down I knew Bruce was just doing what needed to be done. He was looking out for me.

"You seem to be recovering well," he commented as he replaced the instruments.

"Well enough to get back to my workshop? Even for just an hour? Come on, Bruce! I'm going stir crazy," I begged, (it was official. I had become desperate. I was actually begging).

He shook his head and said, "Nope. Sorry. That's still a ways out. No strenuous activity or lifting over ten pounds. I'm pretty sure you'd break both of those rules in the first five minutes in your workshop.

I was thinking doing well more along the lines of ready to have the chest tubes removed, try a shower tomorrow, and if that goes well, maybe sleep in your own bed."

Yep, definitely looking out for me. My annoyingly protective knight in Hulk-sized armor.

I put on a playful pout and said, "You're no fun. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's your middle name. Bruce "No Fun" Banner."

He chuckled, and said with a grin, "Actually, my middle name is Bruce. But I suppose it might be my second middle name."

I blinked at him. Then I thought back on his SHIELD file and all of his academic works I had read and realized that they all said "R. Bruce Banner."

"What does the "R" stand for anyway?" I asked out of curiosity, but apparently I had waited too long to ask, because Bruce was busying himself putting some things on a tray a few feet away.

"Huh?" he asked, apparently too distracted by what he was doing to follow my train of thought.

"R. Bruce Banner. What does the "R" stand for?" I clarified.

"Robert," he answered.

"Robert?" I repeated, and then shook my head. "Bruce suits you better."

"That's what my mom thought," he said as he carefully set down the tray next to the bed. "But my father disagreed. He thought Bruce was a soft name, a name for weaklings and homosexuals."

He started removing the tape and gauze from around my chest tubes as he continued, "'Robert' was a name for a man he told her. A strong name."

He snipped the sutures holding the tubes in place, "She gave in. She said he could name me 'Robert' if he let her use 'Bruce' as my middle name."

He placed a four by four piece of gauze over the now loose plastic tubing, "In the end, she really got her way, because she just used my middle name as a nickname from day one. . . deep breath. . . "

I complied, and as I breathed out he yanked out the tubes in one fluid motion while he said, "I remember how she beamed with pride when I wrote 'Bruce' with sidewalk chalk when someone asked if I could spell my name. He, on the other hand, looked like he'd swallowed a bug." 

I let out a sharp breath, but the pain hardly registered and passed quickly. 

"How old were you?" I asked as he started to tape down the four by four.

"Two," he replied as he finished securing the dressing.

"And you remember that?" I said in surprise.

He nodded. His eyes darkened for a second, and I realized there was more to the story that made it memorable, but I wasn't going to ask about that. Honestly, I was surprised he was talking about his childhood at all. That was something that Bruce rarely did.

"You just told me all of that to distract me, didn't you?" I said, as the pieces fell into place.

"Did it work?" he asked with a grin.

"You're devious," I replied, wagging a finger at him and returning his grin.

"A little. But I try to only use my powers for good," he joked.

"Do you think you could use your powers to help me escape boredom?" I teased.

"Well, we could take a walk. . ." he started.

I interrupted with a groan. 

"I'll rephrase," he said. "We _will_ take a walk. And then we could watch a movie."

I shrugged; it was better than nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of the name 'Bruce' being for homosexuals is based on the fact that I heard that's why they changed Bruce to David for the Incredible Hulk TV show. Could be a baseless rumor, but that's what I heard. 
> 
> At any rate, I have nothing against the name Bruce.


	15. Bruce: To Smash or Not to Smash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning: victim-blaming**

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't smash you," I growled, letting my eyes flash green for a minute.

I noticed with some satisfaction that Justin Hammer seemed surprised when I stepped out of the shadows into the space in front of his cell. 

"I'll give you three," he answered with a cocky grin. "One, you're on _Candid Camera_."

He gestured at a pair of cameras in the room and continued, "SHIELD is watching, and they want information . . . Sooooo, I doubt they'd be okay with the whole smashing thing. Two, haven't we already been there and done that?"

He paused for a moment to gesture to his bruises and broken nose before he concluded, "And three, you don't have the guts. I've read the file your good friend General Ross keeps on you. Even as he tries to claim you're a monster, his records actually show that you're a 'man of conscience.' Therefore, you'd be reluctant to kill me, because you're too weak to kill without remorse. You 'value all human life' or some other hippie crap like that."

I stared him down, waiting for him to get noticeably uncomfortable with the eye contact and the silence before I replied.

"One, SHIELD has no idea I'm here. I disabled the cameras. Two, you're still breathing, so I'd say you got off pretty easy the first time. And three, are you really willing to stake your life on that assumption?" I counterpointed.

Hammer seem unsettled for a second, but then he recovered, adopting his false bravado once more.

"I think it's a pretty safe assumption, _doctor_. I mean didn't you take an oath?" he shot back.

I stared at him again, and he shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, you certainly have that uncomfortable staring thing down. I'm sure you could win staring contests on an international level, but let's get down to the real reason you're here, shall we?" 

When I didn't respond to his question, he continued as if I had anyway.

"You're here because you want to know what happened. Your precious little 'Tin Man' won't tell you . . .not that he would. 

How could you continue to see him as a hero, or even as a man, when you hear about the way he pleaded for his life like a little girl? He crumbled like a house of cards, begging me not to do it when I went to take out the arc reactor. . . What kind of man begs? He didn't even _try_ to hide his fear. Not that it would have mattered; the frantic thump! thump! thump! of his weak, little heart spoke as loud as any of his words. I thought he was going to have a heart attack before I even took the thing out of his chest!"

I heard a choked sound, and realized that without even thinking about it I had reached through the bars and grabbed him by the throat. 

"Oooh, someone's angry. But are you even sure what you're angry about? Or at whom your anger should be directed?" he sneered as best as he could with his limited air supply. "Tony's no angel. Didn't he tell you about the way he begged for my cock like a greedy little slut? He bared his ass to me like the little manwhore that he is. And the noises he made . . .moaning like a cheap whore . . . keening and whimpering for more . . ."

His voice was cut off completely as I squeezed tighter, and his eyes widened as he realized he couldn't breathe. All I needed to do was squeeze a little tighter, or wait a few minutes, and he would never bother anyone ever again. Clint's words echoed through my head, _Personally, I would have put an arrow through his eye socket, and he would have more than deserved it,_ and the Hulk grumbled his approval in the back of my mind. 

This man had tried to kill Tony. He had ripped the very thing that was keeping him alive out of his chest, and was willing to just sit and watch him die slowly and painfully. He had violated him, and now he had the nerve to say Tony was "asking for it." I would be completely justified in ending his life . . .but I couldn't. That would make me no better than him, so I let go.

He gasped and coughed, doubling over to put his hands on his knees as he tried to get his breath back.

"If you _ever_ go near Tony again, you won't be so lucky next time," I warned.

"I doubt it. There would be nothing to stop me from going after Stark again," he half-snarled, half-gasped, "You can't kill me now, and you won't kill me then."

"I wouldn't count on it," I growled, summoning Hulk's strength and reaching through the bars to push Hammer into the far wall of the cell.

He hit with enough force to create a large dent in the concrete wall, and the only response he had after that was a pained groan. He sunk to the floor winded, cut and bruised, and probably bleeding internally, but he wasn't going into shock yet, so he was probably still unharmed enough that SHIELD could deal with the injuries.

I met his eye briefly, recommunicating the threat with a hard glance, and then turned on my heel and left.


	16. Tony: The Shower

Bruce carefully removed the dressing from my chest and studied what it had been covering.

"It looks like the incisions are starting to heal. You should be able to shower now. Just don't scrub around any of your stitches or these incisions," he cautioned.

"When you say 'now,' do you mean, if I wanted I could walk to the bathroom and do it _right_ now?" I asked. 

I'll admit it, I was eager to take a shower. It had been days, and even though I tended to go for days without showering in the workshop or the lab, that was different. I was too distracted then to notice how long it had been, or that I was filthy when I was working. These last few day had moved painfully slow, and I after all of the times I had awoken in a cool sweat, I was looking forward to cleaning up. Plus, it felt like finally being able to wash off might start to strip away some of what had happened in the last week.

"' _Right now_ ' is fine," he answered.

I went to stand up, but wavered slightly on my feet after I arose. Bruce reached out to steady me, and studied me with a slight frown.

"Maybe I should be around to help this time. Just in case. You seem a little unsteady on your feet," he commented. Then he paused, and added, "If that's okay with you."

I looked at him in surprise and said, "Of course it's okay with me."

Why wouldn't I be okay with it? Bruce and I had showered together countless times. And he was right, I was feeling a little weak and unsteady. Having him there to help was probably a good idea.

Unfortunately, I understood Bruce's caution a few minutes later. As soon as I was standing naked in front of him, I felt incredibly vulnerable and exposed. It made me uncomfortable, but I pushed the feeling aside and climbed into the shower. 

Bruce stood just outside of the shower, close at hand in case I needed him, and watched as I turned on the water. He wasn't staring, and he was clearly trying to give me as much privacy as possible, but the feel of his eyes on me made me feel like a piece of meat. I suppressed a shudder, but the motion made me slip.

"Easy," Bruce said; suddenly by my side in the shower catching me.

His arms were simultaneously welcomed and unwelcomed. They had stopped me from falling, which was good. At the same time, the sudden contact against my very naked body filled me with uneasiness and made me cringe. And even though I knew Bruce was only holding me up, it felt like he was restraining me, and an unwelcome voice in my head darkly suggested that he had me right where he wanted me.

Bruce must have noticed me cringe, because as soon as he was sure I had my balance again, he backed away with his hands raised so that I could clearly see them. 

He searched my face with concerned eyes and said, "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. You just surprised me," I excused, trying to convince myself that was the only reason for my uneasiness.

He nodded, but frowned as he noticed the way my hands were trembling as I reached for the shampoo.

He turned to make his way back out of the shower, but I was far from sure I wasn't about to topple over. The sudden near-crash to the floor had zapped me of whatever energy I had left. I didn't have the strength left to do this alone, so he was going to have to help, or I was going to have to get out.

"Could you stay? I'm going to need help," I asked as casually as I could.

He searched my face again and asked, "Are you sure?"

I nodded determinedly. This was not going to beat me. I had been waiting for this for days. So, nervous or not, I was _**not**_ getting out. Besides, it was _Bruce_ , and I trusted him implicitly. He'd never hurt me, so there was no reason to be nervous.

I tried to wash my hair, but apparently trying to do that _and_ stand was too much for me. I wobbled slightly, and Bruce gently reached out to right me. He only touched my elbows, but once again I felt a strong sense of unease settle in my gut. Thankfully, I avoided flinching.

"I think you're going to have to do it. I should probably focus on standing," I admitted.

Bruce slowly moved his hands up towards my head, while I mentally prepared myself. I waited for the anxiety, the sinking feeling in my gut as his hands made contact, but it didn't come. 

Instead, I found myself enjoying the ways his fingertips carefully massaged my scalp. Unlike the other touches, this was comforting. It felt safe and soothing. I began to wonder if I had just needed to get used to the idea of him touching me; to reconvince my brain that Bruce wouldn't hurt me. I had made up my mind that clearly that was the case when I was proven wrong yet again. 

When Bruce finished helping me rinse my hair, I handed him the soap. He deliberately met my eyes to confirm my intentions. Then, he started carefully washing my body. 

His touch could not have been gentler, and anyone watching would have seen how tender each movement was. Consciously I knew that, but as soon as his hands dropped below my neck, my skin burned in near pain under his fingers, and a part of my brain over which I appeared to have no control screamed that this was wrong. I had to fight with everything within me not to recoil from Bruce's touch.

I hoped I was successful in hiding my discomfort, because I knew that if Bruce noticed he would blame himself, and it wasn't his fault. He had done nothing but take care of me, and the last thing I wanted was for him to think he had done something wrong. That said, I was still incredibly grateful when I climbed out of the shower and finally covered myself with a towel. 

Finding I couldn't dry off or dress myself at the moment, (damn balance), Bruce helped once more, and once again I fought against feelings of being used and exposed; even as he helped me put my clothes _on_ , which you would think would be less unnerving than taking them off.

Given my adverse reaction to Bruce earlier in the day, I surprised myself when I asked him to climb into bed with me later that evening, (he had kept to his word from the day before, and even though he was reluctant given my bout of weakness earlier in the day, I was finally spending the night in my own bed). The words had just tumbled out of my mouth, but as soon as I said them, I knew they were right. I wanted him beside me. This wasn't me challenging my discomfort like earlier, this was me _needing_ his solid presence by my side.

He seemed reluctant, but crawled into the far side of the bed, careful not to get too close or touch me. His careful barrier didn't last long, because I rolled over and latched onto him. I thought about how right it felt, as I nuzzled my head into his chest, and gently tugged his arms to envelop me.

 _I'm so screwed up,_ I thought as I closed my eyes. 

In the dark room, it felt right to be held by Bruce. His arms were comforting and safe, but it didn't escape my notice that the same embrace had felt controlling and manipulative earlier in the day, and not because anything Bruce had done had changed. It was my own screwed up mind that was causing this, apparently arbitrarily deciding that hugging in bed was good, but in the shower was bad; hair washing was comforting, but body washing was wrong; removing clothing or dressings for the purpose of medical examination was okay, but helping me get dressed was cause for alarm.

Feeling broken, and wondering if I could ever be fixed, I tried to banish my thoughts by focusing instead on the sound of Bruce's heartbeat. The sound was close and comforting under my ear. I counted the beats, losing myself in the rhythm, until I finally felt myself being pulled towards sleep.


	17. Bruce: Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **mentions of rape and violence**

I looked down at Tony, asleep in my arms, and thought back on the events of the day. Between my visit with Justin Hammer, and the shower incident, I was feeling defeated. I tried to just be thankful that Tony seemed to feel safe with me at the moment, but my mind seemed eager to remind me of darker things.

Every time I closed my eyes I could see Tony flinching and trying not to move away from my touch as betrayal crept into his eyes. I had tried to create distance, tried to show that I would respect his boundaries, but between Tony's stubbornness and his bouts of physical weakness I hadn't had much choice other than to continue to touch him. I only hoped I didn't do too much damage. 

Opening my eyes wasn't much help either. Though it prevented me from seeing the pain on Tony's face, it allowed Justin Hammer's voice the chance to purr in my ear venomously. _. . .he pleaded for his life like a little girl . . . . Begging me not to do it when I went to take out the arc reactor . . ._

The remembrance of his words made me sick. They were probably lies, like the ones about Tony 'begging for it,' but that didn't make it any better. Whether or not Tony had pleaded was irrelevant. Whether he said something, or remained stoic, he had been scared. Hammer's account of Tony's fear, ( _. . .the frantic thump! thump! thump! of his weak, little heart . . . I thought he was going to have a heart attack before I even took the thing out of his chest!_ ), was meant to provoke, but the twisted glee on his face made it all too clear that it was true.

The image of Tony's betrayed face earlier in the day was replaced by the image of Tony strapped to the metal lab table with Justin Hammer hovering over him. Hammer rested his hand over the arc reactor and talked trash while Tony tried to hide his fear. Then, the arc reactor was plucked from its casing and Tony's eyes went wide with shock.

I shook my head slightly, trying to erase the image. That was over now. Tony was home. He was safe, and at the moment he seemed quite content curled up against me. His left arm was wrapped tightly around my torso and his head was pillowed against my chest, making him look like a human koala bear. That thought actually made me smile, until Tony whimpered in his sleep.

Suddenly my mind was spinning again. What horrible thing was he reliving now? Was Justin Hammer haunting his dreams? Or was he remembering things that had happened before that? Afghanistan? Obie? Recent events had probably re-opened the wounds from those traumas too.

"Bruce?" 

"Yes?" I replied several moments later when I realized that Tony had spoken.

"You need to stop worrying. I can't even see you and I know you've got your brow furrowed and your face all scrunched up," he mumbled, face still half-buried in my chest. "You're letting off enough nervous energy to power a city. . . And you're feeling guilty."

I didn't know what to say; he knew me too well.

He craned his head so he could meet my eyes with his, which were now dark and serious, and said, "I'm sorry I'm broken."

"What?!? Tony you're not . . ." I started.

"No, Bruce, I am," he said, looking down as he continued to speak. "I'm broken, and that's why you feel guilty. You can't tell me you haven't been thinking about what happened in the shower. You're blaming yourself, and you shouldn't. It's not your fault."

"It's not your fault either, Tony," I said gently. 

"Then whose fault is it? I'm the one who was too stubborn to just get out of the shower. I'm the one who flinched when you touched me and acted like I didn't trust you, even though there's no one I trust more," he said guiltily.

"Tony, after what happened, you have every right to be paranoid for a while. It's not your fault," I said firmly. "You didn't ask for any of it, and you're allowed to have time to process what happened."

"'Time to process?'" he repeated dubiously. "You mean time to be screwed up."

"If that's how you want to look at it. Look, Tony, I was 'screwed up' for a long time after I escaped from being captured by General Ross," I started.

"Yeah, but he was a sadistic bastard who tortured you day in and day out for close to two months," he said. 

"And Justin Hammer raped you and tried to kill you," I blurted out before I had time to think about what I was saying.

So far Tony had avoided talking about both of those subjects, but he had actively gone out of his way to avoid discussing, or letting anyone know, about the former. I could feel his entire body stiffened when I said the word "raped," and I immediately regretted my carelessness. (Then again, maybe now that it had been said we could stop pretending it had never happened. Denial wasn't helping him one bit.)

"I . . . He . . . I never said 'no,'" he confessed miserably. "I didn't say 'stop' . . . I didn't say anything."

"That doesn't mean you consented," I said gently.

"I was tied up," he said quietly, burying his face as he spoke. "I was feeling weak, because they'd dunked my head into a barrel of water until I nearly passed out a few dozen times, and then he walked in. 

He rambled on about power, and then he kicked me in the stomach. . .and while I was writhing on the floor, he took off my pants. . . I knew what he was doing, and I was scared . . So, I fought him. I head-butted him, but he overpowered me and pinned me to the floor.

Then . . ."

He shuddered, and I was about to tell him that he didn't need to say anymore, when he continued.

"Then he forced himself on me. . . .He didn't use any lube at all . . . he just pushed right in and took what he wanted. . . It hurt . . . And the pain only got worse as he kept going, but that wasn't the worst part . . . .It made me feel so ashamed . . . And so dirty. . . .like I'd been contaminated and I could never get clean again, no matter how hard I tried. 

That didn't mean I didn't want to try though. I wanted to jump in a shower and scrub my skin raw. Just keep scrubbing until there was no trace of him left."

My arms tightened slightly around Tony, in what I hoped was seen as comfort and support, and my jaw tightened in anger as he explained what happened.

He seemed to take comfort in the close embrace, until he noticed the line of my jaw.

"You're angry," he stated, but there was a hint of a question in his voice.

"Yes," I said simply, trying not to let my anger get any stronger.

He seemed to shrink in on himself, and he looked up at me with sorrow-filled, guilty eyes as he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . ."

"I'm not angry at you," I said gently, but incredulously, when I realized what he was thinking.

"But . . . I was with another man. I couldn't stop him, and he took something that's supposed to belong to you," he mourned.

"Tony, that's not why I'm angry," I stated, once again keeping my answer short to keep control.

He thought this was about Hammer 'taking what was mine;' like Tony was some sort of object. The thought put an ache in my chest. One that only got worse when he looked at me in confusion when I answered.

"I'm angry at _him_ , because he hurt you," I clarified after a moment.

He studied my face, paused, and said, "There's more bothering you. Come on, we're being honest here, which we probably should have done before, but better late than never. What's wrong, Bruce?"

"I went to see Justin Hammer this morning," I started.

"Why?" Tony interrupted.

"You know how we watched _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ yesterday?" 

"Yeah . . .it's an awful movie. They completely ruined the awesome books with that travesty."

"Right, well, the guy who played Zaphod Beeblebrox reminded me of him. And the more I looked at him, the angrier I got. I thought about all the things he'd done to you, and I really wanted to confront him. I don't know what I hoped to get out of it, but I felt like I needed to do it. 

So, I sneaked into the SHIELD base where they were holding him, and threatened to smash him. He ran his mouth, and some of the things he said, well, he got into my head. . . .I choked him . . ."

"Bruce . . . Did you . . .?" he asked, his eyes going wide.

I shook my head, "I didn't kill him. I couldn't. . . . I did push him into a wall though."

Tony sighed, seemingly relieved at my choice of actions.

"But what he said . . . I can't stop thinking about it . . . . He hurt you . . .and I didn't do anything. I didn't stop it. I couldn't protect you. . . .and then, this afternoon . . . I know you say it wasn't my fault, but I hurt you. I stirred up some of the same feelings that he did. . . So not only could I not protect you then . . . I still can't protect you now."

"Bruce . . ." he said gently, but I cut him off.

"No . . . If I had found you earlier, none of this would have happened. Or if I would have been paying closer attention to you during the battle, they never would have captured you in the first place. Or if I was more observant I would be able to avoid triggering you. What's the point of being a genius, if you can't figure out where someone as careless and egotistical as Justin Hammer is hiding? What's the point in being a ridiculously strong, unstoppable rage monster, if you can't protect the people you love?"

"You did what you could. . .and you saved me. I would have died if you hadn't found me, but you did. And since you rescued me, you've taken care of me, even though I'm so screwed up I can't let anyone else touch me. 

Bruce, you've been doing nothing but protecting me from the moment you found me. So what if you've accidentally triggered me a few times? It's going to happen. It's going to take time for me not to be screwed up. But I know you'll do everything you can to respect my boundaries in the meantime," he said sincerely.

I went rigid when he mentioned dying, and then sighed as he finished, but didn't say anything. Now he was comforting me? _Great job, Banner. He just recounted being raped because you couldn't keep your mouth shut, and somehow he ends up comforting you?!? Shouldn't you be taking care of him?!?_

"Bruce, you're allowed to need comfort," Tony said, almost as if he had heard my thoughts. "I'm not the only one who was hurt by what happened. You're allowed 'time to process,' too. . . Honestly, I'm glad you shared what you were feeling. I knew you were hurting, but you were trying so hard to hide it. It kinda made me feel like you were afraid I would break if you said anything . . .which I won't. . . Look, we should have just been honest. . . I should have told you what was bothering me, and you should have done the same. . . .We both probably would have gotten a lot more sleep that way . . . Besides isn't that what relationships are for? Taking care of each other?"

"Have I told you how much I love you lately?" I asked, touched by his words.

"Only every time you look at me, and with everything you do . . . But words are nice too sometimes," he said with a grin.

I kissed his forehead, and he beamed, but his eyes and smile looked tired.

"Maybe we should get to sleep?" I suggested. "I promise this time I'll try to keep my worry down so I don't wake you."


	18. Tony: Epilogue

The first night I slept in my own bed after the kidnapping was a turning point. Bruce and I finally said all of the things we had been holding in. It helped both of us get perspective, and we were reminded that we could rely on each other, neither of us had to face our demons alone. 

I started having less nightmares, and when I do have them, Bruce is always there to help. Plus, with our more open communication, I'm starting to become more comfortable being touched, and casual contact from the team, (a pat on the shoulder, a playful elbow nudge), doesn't bother me anymore. 

The stitches are out, the cuts and bruises are healed, and I'm working in the lab and the workshop again, (under Bruce's watchful supervision, because apparently he says I'm not ready to pull several day long science benders). There are still some things that made me nervous, but I know I don't have to face them alone. Bruce will be by my side to protect me, to comfort me, and to help me move on. And with his help, I know I'll be okay.


End file.
